Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
ing down the goat, the only other evidence of humans around was the occasional flash of
torchlight from an illegal fisherman out on the water.
'Lev,' Boston began. 'They're talking again.'
Selim and his brother were kindling the fire, chattering in Swahili.
'So?'
'They're speaking about us. Lev, listen . . .' Boston's eyes seemed to open wider with
every word that he heard. 'Do you know what they're saying?'
'Tell me.'
'They plot to rob us. If we don't share the goat with them, they mean to tie us to the tree
and take everything.'
When I looked, Selim was still whispering to his brother, words smothered by the crack-
ling of the fire.
'Selim!' I cried out.
His eyes darted to find me in the dark.
'You'll get some goat, don't worry. You won't starve. But I warn you - any more talk of
robbing us and we'll leave you here in the forest. You have no idea where you are and the
Rwandans will get you.' I stopped, fixing him with my eyes. 'Do you understand?'
He nodded, terrified.
'Happy Christmas,' I said, and patted him sternly on the shoulders.
In the dead of night, I woke with a start. From the shallows of the lake, only metres
away from our guttering campfire, there came the sound of a most terrible thrashing. As
I scrabbled up, wondering if it was Selim and his brother somehow making that racket, I
saw that Boston was already awake. I followed his gaze to the water, where a family of
five angry hippos were rolling and snapping at each other.
'We've ruined their Christmas, Lev.'
Shrinking into our tents, we waited until morning.
Christmas Day was blisteringly hot. By dawn the hippos were gone and we were able
to stake out our camp again. Despite having spent much of my working life overseas, I
had always managed to make it home for Christmas; this would be the first year I would
not wake to a cold English morning in the familiar surroundings of childhood. Still, I was
determined that this would be a celebration. Boston and I decorated the thorn bushes with
pants and socks in place of baubles and, since there were no turkeys to be snared, we said
goodbye to the goat and butchered him for the day's festivities. Despite their mutterings
of the night before, we shared the meat with Selim and his brother. The day was long, the
water of the lake inviting - but Selim was adamant that the shallows were alive with cro-
codiles, so the best thing we could do was sit in the shade and drink from the bottle of
whisky I'd carried all this way for the occasion.
